


wouldn't you love to love her?

by artificialpeach



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Established Friendship, F/F, Lesbian AU, Rating Is Likely To Change, cis girl au, katya drives a pickup truck, trixie works in a coffee shop and lives alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-03-26 22:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13867389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialpeach/pseuds/artificialpeach
Summary: “You know...my offer's still open. What I said before, I mean. I still think it'd be a good idea.”Trixie thought back to that conversation she had had with Katya the last time her bills were due and she was freaking out over it. After seeing her struggle and become that anxious so many times, Katya had wanted to help. And, yeah, she thought the idea of it was self-indulgent too, sure, but she hated to see Trixie go through it every first of the month because of how much she struggled to cope on her own. So she asked if she could move in with her. And Trixie had said no.-----as soon as trixie had saved up enough money and graduated high school, she moved out of her abusive family home to live on her own, but she struggles to make ends meet. katya wants to help fix that.aka: clueless lesbians have no idea the other is in love with them.., this is their story(title from 'rhiannon' by fleetwood mac !!)





	1. if she promised you heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trixies_clinical_depression](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixies_clinical_depression/gifts).



Trixie threw the door to her apartment shut behind her, not bothering to lock it, and toed the shoes off of her aching feet before sinking down to the rug covering her hardwood floor, not even able to muster the will to make it to the sofa before letting her body sag. Managing to work enough hours as a barista at her nearest Starbucks to be able to pay for rent in her little one bedroomed apartment all on her own was tense at best, and threw her into a depression at worst.

She knew that moving out as soon as she finished high school to be alone miles away from her childhood home would never be easy, but she always told herself that it would be better than feeling like a prisoner in her own home. Her stepdad controlled every aspect of her and her mothers' lives, and as soon as she realised at 15 that it was never going to get better on its own, she got a job and started saving in secret until she could afford a deposit and a few months' rent for her own place. She moved out as soon as she graduated high school and never looked back, despite the guilt of her mother eating away at her; if she was okay, if _he_ was still as bad as before. All she can tell herself is that her life is better now than it ever could be if she was still there.

Now, though, as she sat sweating in her black uniform on the rug – that had now become off-white due to how little time she had left in her life to clean it – she felt herself slipping. Today had been one of the more bad ones, pulling a 10-hour shift with what felt like no more than 10 minutes of break time due to how short-staffed they were today was taking its toll on her; her feet were throbbing from being stood up all day, her head feeling the same due to all the tension behind her eyes. She could feel how knotted her hair was getting in the ponytail under her work cap as she tried to run her fingers through it.

Trixie took her phone out from the back pocket of her trousers, rested her chin on her knees where they were bent to curl her into a ball where she was sitting, and unlocked her phone. She opened her 'calls' app and tapped the contact at the top of her recent calls list before putting it on speaker and onto the ground next to her, facing up.

The beeping rang once, twice, and then was replaced by the tinny but familiar voice that she needed to hear right now.

“This is your local prostitution service, Katya speaking, how may I help you?” followed by a cackle that probably would've been ear-splitting in person. Trixie wished she really was there instead of on the other end of the line.

All she could muster in return was a “Hey,” sounding far more feeble than she had intended. Her voice wobbled and she knew that Katya probably heard in that one word how much she wanted to cry.

“Hey.” On her end of the line, Katya sat on her bed in the room at her parents' house - she hadn't moved out yet, had never needed to like Trixie – and cradled her phone in both hands at hearing Trixie's response to her joke, as though willing Trixie to feel the embrace on the other end of the line. Usually Trixie was full of boisterous screaming laughs that made her need to hold the phone away from her ear to preserve from sound damage. Other times, she would bounce back on the same comedic wavelength without a moment's hesitation. Lately she noticed her becoming more and more reserved; the independence she was burdened with after moving away from home was becoming more of a weight on her shoulders. Katya hated to see it in her slumped shoulders or unsmiling mouth whenever she saw her in person (as often as they could around Trixie's working hours). “Are you okay?”

Trixie took her cap off and pulled her messy ponytail from out of the back hole, heaving out a wobbly sigh that had morphed into a humourless laugh by the end of the breath. She had completely deflated.”Bad day.” She let the weight of her head fall back against the wall with a soft, hollow thump, and looked up at the ceiling. There were cracks forming from where it met the wall in the corner. She almost wished it would crumble and fall on top of her and block the rest of the world away permanently. Almost.

“Want me to come over?”

Trixie followed the lines of cracks in her ceiling until she reached a streak of yellow light cast from the sun beginning to set outside of her living room window. “Can we go for a drive? I don't care where, just...take me somewhere. I need to get out of here. Out of my head. I don't know.”

“I know. I'm coming.”

“Thank you.” Trixie let her eyes fall closed for a moment. “Will you stay on the line though? Just until you get here. I don't like how quiet it gets in here.”

Silence was better than deep shouting coming from the other side of walls or the floor below, better than the sound of her own pulse thumping in her ears as she forced herself not to make a sound as she cried in the bedroom of her childhood home. But she would take the sound of Katya over silence if she could for every moment until her death – her breathing, her mumbling to herself, her soothing words or jokes to make her happy. Katya's voice had soothed Trixie to sleep on countless nights while they were still in high school and Trixie had managed to get away to Katya's home for a night, or over the phone when she knew they couldn't be together in person. Lately, Trixie needed that less. But, oh, how she _wanted_ it.

She wanted to wake up with Katya's hands in her hair and her own face buried in Katya's neck like she did once when they were 16 and Trixie had cried herself to sleep in Katya's arms, in Katya's bed. She wanted to laugh with her until tears formed like she did in every class they shared in high school. She wanted to sit and be there for Katya as she had been for her countless times, to guide her breathing and hold her hand through anxious moments, reassure her when she struggled to find purpose in her own art, her own life.

Katya didn't know this. Katya didn't need to know this. How she was one extra reason for Trixie to fight through the days because she was always one day closer to seeing her again. And Trixie wasn't about to risk everything they've built as friends, because what if she didn't feel the same way? What if, after all they'd been through during their years as friends, after they were seated next to each other in French in freshman year of high school and just _clicked,_ after growing to be the person Trixie trusted and cared for most in this godforsaken world. What if, for once, they weren't on the same wavelength?

“Of course,” Katya replied to Trixie's earlier question. “I'm here. Get some fresh clothes on, I know how dingy you feel after being in your uniform for so long. I'm on my way.”

Trixie slowly pulled herself up from the ground, picking her phone up along the way, and entered the door to her bedroom. It was naturally lit from the sun outside her window, and with the thin coloured curtains acting as a filter, her room glowed in a rosy pink hue. It made the house feel just that little bit more like a home, and with the sound of Katya walking to her car coming from the speaker of her phone, she didn't feel alone.

Trixie peeled her uniform off and rolled it in a ball to use as a towel to wipe away the sheen of sweat coating her skin – she wouldn't have time for a shower before Katya came for her, so this would have to do for now. It was then discarded onto the ever-growing pile of laundry in the corner – another problem she really couldn't bring herself to think about just yet – and pulled her ponytail out, wincing each time it snagged on a knot, and fanned her fingers through it at the nape of her neck in an effort to give it at least a hint of life. By the time she had lethargically re-dressed into the first comfortable outfit she came across in her wardrobe (high-waisted denim shorts rolled up at the cuffs and an off-the-shoulder white tee tucked into them) Katya had announced her arrival and summoned Trixie downstairs, before ending the call upon seeing her approach the car door through the opposite window.

As soon as Trixie flung herself in the passenger seat, slammed the car door behind her, and laid her eyes on Katya's face, the feeling of home sunk into her bones further and already began to ease away her sour mood; the way Katya's wavy hair seemed to float around her head and down her shoulders and glow in the sunlight coming from behind her. The smell of cigarettes and Katya's rose perfume that had permeated the seats of her old faded red pickup truck that Trixie had fallen in love with (and had insisted on naming it 'Stevie', which Katya had no objections to due to loving Fleetwood Mac just as much as Trixie). The way Katya's eyes softened now when they locked with Trixie's and she smiled, not out of pity but just to make her know _I'm here for you._ Trixie returned the smile with a small one of her own – probably the first genuine one she had been able to summon all day, and simply told Katya to _“Drive.”_

Once Katya had pulled out of Trixie's neighbourhood and onto the main roads, she picked up speed to let Trixie open the windows and let the wind blow through her hair – 'airing out the cobwebs', she called it – and it made her shiver but it made her smile again, even just a little bit, to know she was free despite how little it felt like it sometimes. She closed her eyes to focus on the cold whooshing sensation on her scalp, the sound of it gushing past her ears mixed with the roar of the tyres over the tarmac roads. The air smelled fresh and crisp, not as sticky as the previous summer evenings, and Trixie opened her eyes to first gaze at the watercolour drip of the sunset's colours melting into one another, and then, turning her head to the side, to let her eyes fall on Katya as she focused on the road ahead. The colours made her face glow as they hit the sheens of oil and sweat on her forehead and cheeks, accentuated the red blush in them from how warm she was, with strands of wavy blonde hair blowing over to stick on her face from the air coming from the window. Trixie leaned over to gently pull them away from her skin, careful not to distract her from driving, and rolled the window back up.

“So,” Katya began, chancing a glance away from the road to see Trixie's soft and admiring face, “Bad day. Wanna talk about it?”

Trixie turned her body around in her seat to be facing Katya fully, tucking one leg up under herself and bending the other up with her foot on the seat, and leaning the side of her head against the headrest. “Same old, really. We were super busy and I was one of the only ones working, so it just drained the life outta me for everyone to expect so much from me at once, y'know? Like, I'm not fucking Hermione Grainger, I can't exactly turn back time to do a billion orders at once.” Katya nodded along, encouraging her to keep going. “And my rent is due next week so I'm always stressed at this point because I'm always scared that I don't have enough money even though I always do – barely – but I just can't help it, I don't know. It all just came crashing down at once, I guess. Again.” Trixie spoke the final word with the same humourless laugh as before and let her gaze wander back out to the gradient in the sky.

Katya turned into a slip road that began to take them uphill to one of their favourite spots: a range of hills overlooking the city. Sometimes they'd sit on the grass under the scorching midday sun and watch paragliders sail around the sky above their heads, wondering what it might be like to see the world from that view, like a bird might; not so far away as a plane, not condemned to stay on the ground.

The uneven surface of the off-road track up the hill made the car teeter unevenly, bouncing the girls about in their seats, which make them both laugh and hold onto whatever they could – Katya with a vice grip on the steering wheel, Trixie with one hand on the handle of the door and her other palm splayed out on top of the glove compartment.

“I hope you peed before you came out,” Katya laughed, knowing how much the jerking of the car irritated your bladder if it was even remotely full.

“Shut up, you know full well that I didn't!” Trixie screeched in return, loosening her grip on the car as they reached the more even and grassy plain of the top of the hill.

Katya parked in a random spot on the flattened grass, her cheesing grin having not even faltered yet, and looked over at Trixie, who was in the same state. “Come on, let's go.”

The two of them hopped out of the car and walked around to the back end. Katya climbed up into the cargo bed and took a big blanket out of it, dusting it off a little before throwing it down for Trixie to catch. She perched a foot against the the top of the siding, a hand on the carriage of the car, and launched herself up and over to land back on the grass in a squat.

They walked over to their regular little spot in comfortable silence, save for the chirping of cicadas in the longer grass lining their flattened path. The breeze from up so high above ground level made the air cooler, but not cold, and it was soothing from the sweltering heat that Trixie had put up with all day inside her cramped little coffee shop. She handed the folded blanket back over to Katya so she could hold her own arms loosely in the air, her forearms resting crossed atop her head, to cool off her sweaty armpits and palms.

Coming up to the hills always felt like taking a step out of life for a moment, almost frozen in time; this little patch of nature was almost like a separate world altogether from the city below, never stopping or slowing. Time seemed to stop in this little place that they had found as a world of their own. Katya's family brought her up here when she was younger, and as soon as she learned to drive and got given her grandpa's old pickup truck as a hand-me-down, this was the first place she came to. It was a safe place for when life became too much, and she would always bring Trixie here when they were still in high school whenever she could as a vacation of sorts from her old home life, even if it was only for an hour. In the summers between their school years, they would spend whole days up here, laying in the sun until they burned and eating grapes by the vine. Sometimes they would wait until it got dark so they could lie on top of a makeshift mattress of blankets in the cargo bed to look at the millions of stars that couldn't be seen through the light pollution on the streets below. A lot of their happiest moments had been spent here, side-by-side, in their own little corner of the world.

“It feels as though we haven't been here in so long,” Trixie said, lowering her arms to let them hang by her sides again and sitting down on the grass once they had reached their main hideout; a small patch of grass with a few daisies peeking through, situated on a tiny part of the hill that jutted out from the rest of it, giving them the best view of the city and the setting sun. The sky behind them was mostly dark blue now, and a thin streak of red was at the bottom of the sky where the mini cliff was facing, meaning the sun was about to vanish for the day.

“I know, it must have been a couple of months. I've missed it.” Katya sat next to Trixie, close enough that their shoulders were pressed against each other. She put the blanket down on the ground in front of them, waiting until the air became cold enough to need it, and crossed her legs. “I've missed _you_.”

Trixie copied Katya and crossed her own legs, one of her knees having to rest on top of Katya's with how close they were, and looked down at the grass and picked a daisy from in front of her. “I know, I'm sorry. I've missed you too.” She reached up to tuck Katya's wavy hair behind her ear, and slotted the daisy there, too. “I just wish I didn't have to work so much, I hate it. I hate not having time to myself or to clean my apartment. Or to see you.”

Katya looped her arm under Trixie's to link them and looked out at the sky. The sun had just dipped below the land, and so the only light left was of the yellow sky above it. “It's okay, I know how much upkeep it takes. I wish you didn't have to do it either, it's not fair on you.”

Trixie inhaled deeply, slowly, and let out a sigh, closing her eyes. She could still see the light of the sky beneath her eyelids. Katya glanced over at her, taking in the way her skin glowed and her freckles were more prominent in the evening light. Her lipgloss shined and made her lips look like a boiled candy. Katya bet that she tasted just as sweet, wished that she could just lean in to know, but couldn't risk bursting this bubble of a perfect moment, of a perfect friendship. She let her head fall onto Trixie's shoulder - with her being taller than herself anyway, but it was more obvious when they sat because most of Katya's height was in her legs - and closed her eyes too.

“You know...my offer's still open. What I said before, I mean. I still think it'd be a good idea.”

Trixie thought back to that conversation she had had with Katya the last time her bills were due and she was freaking out over it. After seeing her struggle and become that anxious so many times, Katya had wanted to help. And, yeah, she thought the idea of it was self-indulgent too, sure, but she hated to see Trixie go through it every first of the month because of how much she struggled to cope on her own. So she asked if she could move in with her. And Trixie had said no.

And what Trixie had wanted to say was, “Oh my God, _yes,”_ after they had both included it in their fantasies of what life would be like after they graduated from high school, free from the burden of education. She wanted to wake up to Katya every morning in her tiny flat, sharing a bed with her, sharing a life with her. But the more she realised how hard this life was, and the more she fell in love with Katya, the less she wanted to impose that on her. A problem shared is a problem halved, but its hard to imagine Katya sat chainsmoking at the tiny table in her kitchen – _their_ kitchen – filing through bills to see which one she could get away with not paying until the next paycheck came in. Or to see the life drained from her after a painfully long work day, in the middle of a painfully long work week. It was bad enough to see her anxiety get so bad through finals. She couldn't thrust her into a life of taxes and bills and literally working until you drop just to maintain a life, and so prematurely, just because of her own selfish needs. And so she told Katya about it the first time she brought it up. And she would be damned if she wouldn't tell her again.

“Kat...” she started, resting her own head on top of where Katya's was leaning, and held onto the arm that she has looped around her own. “I've told you about this. It's not as fun as it seemed when we were itching to get out of school and have a life of our own, you know. It's so fucking hard. I can't put you through all that stress, you'll just fall apart.”

“I mean, I already have a job, I could just pick up more hours where we need them. And I've gotta be able to support myself one day, Trix, my family aren't exactly gonna be around to pick up my slack my entire life.”

“I know, but...”

“But what? Trixie you've gotta let me help you! You can't keep doing this on your own, you're the one who's falling apart here, not me. And that's saying something, mama.” Katya's voice was pressing, but not degradingly; she genuinely wanted Trixie to believe she could be helped, that Katya wanted to help her. That wasn't exactly hard to believe. The more Trixie thought about it, the less it seemed like a bad idea. “We could balance each other's shifts out so you have to work less, you'd get more disposable income, and you'd get to be with me for every waking moment you're not at work! It's a win-win!”

Trixie had laughed at that. “I'll think about it, okay?” Katya squealed and squeezed her arm, harbouring an instant grin that made her whole face shift to accommodate it because it was so powerful. “That wasn't a straight-up yes, by the way! I don't exactly wanna burden you with this paycheck-to-paycheck life.”

“It wouldn't be a burden, Trix. Not with you around. It'd be so worth it, just you wait.”

“Gag,” Trixie laughed, wrapping her fingers around Katya's hands that were still like a vice grip on her arm, and squeezed in reassurance. “Now shut up and let me enjoy the rest of this sunset, bitch, I came here to forget about my life, not add more things to worry about.”

By the time the sky had begun to fade away from oranges and yellows into various darkening shades of blue, the chill in the air had settled in. Katya had unfolded the thin, light grey blanket she had discarded onto the grass earlier and wrapped it tightly around hers and Trixie's shoulders. It wasn't much, but the combined heat of their bodies staying trapped underneath the fabric was enough to keep them both comfortably warm. Both of their heads were still resting against each other, swirling with a million thoughts per minute; Trixie's head filled with contradictions of _“she couldn't cope,”_ to _“just let her help you,”_ and Katya's thoughts interrupted constantly with _“this could make or break us,”_ both of them thinking _“what if,”_ without the other even knowing.

Katya felt Trixie's jaw move from where it was leaning atop her head; she was yawning. “Tired?”

“What do you think, bitch? I work like 25-hour days, I'm exhausted.” Trixie began yawning a second time by the end of her sentence, pulling the corner of the blanket tighter around her body.

“Well, do you wanna go home? An early night would do you some good.” Katya patted Trixie on the knee, then let her hand rest there.

“No, I wanna stay with you. I've missed you. Plus, the view is stupidly pretty.”

“Can't see the view if you're closing your eyes to go to sleep, dumbass,” Katya deadpanned. Trixie hit her lightly, mumbled “shut up loser,” whilst giggling, and shoved at Katya's legs to make her stick them straight out in front of her so she could lie down and rest her head in her lap.

“Less bullying, more playing with my hair,” Trixie said, half muffled from where she pressed one side of her face into the tops of Katya's thighs, facing outwards towards her feet and the skyline ahead.

“Yes, ma'am.” Katya smiled to herself. She stretched one arm behind her to prop herself up, and her other hand lightly scratched Trixie's scalp, running her fingers through her thick blonde locks until she reached their tips, then starting back again at her head. After a few minutes, though, Trixie's breathing had become heavier and slower; Katya could tell she was falling asleep. She gently tapped her on the head so bring her out of it without startling her awake. “Hey,” she said softly, “Get up Trix. I'll take you home so you can properly go to sleep, okay?”

Trixie simply groaned in return and began to sit up, taking one last little look around her favourite spot in the world before turning away to walk back to Katya's pickup.

When they pulled back up outside of Trixie's house, Trixie was still awake, but only barely. Katya walked her up to her apartment with their arms linked together and unlocked the door for Trixie after she had handed her the key. “Want me to come in or do you think you can manage getting ready for bed on your own?” She was only slightly joking, but allowed herself to indulge in her own imagination, seeing images flash in her mind of her sitting Trixie up on her bathroom sink-cabinet and wiping her makeup off for her, taking off her clothes and replacing them with the baby pink satin vest and shorts combo that she knows Trixie always wears for bed, has seen it in their FaceTime calls in the evenings.

“I'm good,” Trixie laughed tiredly, wiping sleep from the corners of her eyes. “Thank you for this evening. I needed it.”

“It's okay, I was just happy to see you in person again, your schedule is always so busy.”

“I know, I know. I'll see you again soon, I promise.” She leaned across the threshold of her doorway to give Katya a long hug, wrapping her arms around her shoulders easily with how much shorter than her Katya was.

“Just let me know when you need me, okay? You know I'm here but don't worry - you'll be able to scrape this together, you always do.” Katya took a step back, and called into Trixie's apartment as she pulled the door closed behind her, “you got this!”

* * *

Trixie has not got this.

Just weeks after her evening to recharge up in the hills with Katya, Trixie is right back where she started; on the floor of her apartment, surrounded by letters, sobbing her heart out. After adding up all of her bills – rent, water, electricity; the works – and comparing it with her monthly paycheck, she found that she didn't have enough money for them all. Hell, she barely had enough for a few of them. It felt as though she was in a one-man game of Russian roulette, except every chamber had a bullet in it. She was worried that she wouldn't be able to get the money this time around – more so than usual, anyway – and had a sinking feeling that she would be right where she was in this moment after they hired a new guy to be a barista at the coffee shop just two weeks prior, leaving Trixie with less hours to pick up. And less money to pay her god damn bills.

Sometimes she contemplates getting a second job to make ends meet a little more smoothly, but she knew that she couldn't handle that. Her days were already full to the brim, so much so that she might as well move in to the Starbucks she is seemingly having to begrudgingly call home. Adding a second job to the mix would push Trixie so far over the edge that she'd probably end up in England.

Trixie looked around herself at where the folded sheets of paper were surrounding her sprawled out legs on the hardwood floor, and found herself reaching for her phone to dial the same number as always. The line picked up after just one ring, and Trixie spoke without even letting Katya get in a “hello”.

“Katya, I need your help,” she whimpered into her phone, having finally reached the tail end of her fit of tears.

“Trixie, are you okay? Talk to me.”

“Katya...how quickly can you get all of your things packed up?”

 


	2. will you ever win?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Katya approached Trixie's apartment again from down the corridor she could faintly hear Stevie Nicks's voice singing about a 'gold dust woman' decorating the air around Katya. Stepping over the threshold, she dodged three other boxes that were littering the narrow hallway leading from the entryway into the lounge, where she bent at the knees to place a box of her things on the ground where she could find space. “That's the last of them!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for this taking so long because of college! i hope some of you stuck around for the wait, it means a lot that you read the first chapter <3

Katya unloaded the final cardboard box that was still sitting in the bed of her pickup truck – this time climbing down via the small door at the back rather than jumping over the edge like she usually does for obvious reasons – and carried it up to Trixie's apartment in the highrise via the elevator. The door of Trixie's tiny home was still left ajar from Katya's last visit a mere few minutes ago with her penultimate box in hand, and as Katya approached it again from down the corridor she could faintly hear Stevie Nicks's voice singing about a _gold dust woman_ decorating the air around Katya. Stepping over the threshold, she dodged three other boxes that were littering the narrow hallway leading from the entryway into the lounge, where she bent at the knees to place it on the ground where she could find space. “That's the last of them!” she called over her shoulder.

Trixie poked her head from the archway leading into the kitchen, a wooden spoon in hand. “Thank God. I hated seeing you carry all those boxes around, they look heavy. There's no way your body can handle that, you have the joints of an 80-year-old woman, I've heard your knees crack first thing in the morning and it sounds like a fucking salt and pepper grinder.” Trixie threw her head back and laughed at her own joke, watching Katya shake her head with an endearing grin on her face as she rounded the corner from the living room to the kitchen, and opened the fridge to pull out a freezing cold can of coke and press it against the back of her neck to cool her down; lugging every single one of her belongings to and fro for the past 30 minutes certainly wasn't proving to be ideal in the heat of LA in May. “I didn't see you offer to help me bitch! And I know you have a thing for older women so don't even pretend my arthritic knees don't give you a total boner.” She hopped up on the narrow counter beside the window to catch the cool breeze coming through it and cracked open the drink in her hand.

“That's because I'm making dinner! And you're way stronger than me anyway with all that yoga you do. Your biceps could out-do Dwayne The motherfuckin' Rock Johnson. It's kinda hot, actually.”

Katya's face flushed an even deeper shade of red than it already was at that, and opted for her trademark boisterous laugh and two quick gulps from her coke can rather than responding with actual words, until she decided to change the subject. “What's cookin'?”

“Just some mixed vegetables and sauce, we can make them into tortillas. It's way too hot for a proper hot meal on a plate, so I thought this would make a nice happy medium. We can eat it out on the balcony, if you want?” Trixie had turned her attention back to turning over the chopped vegetables in her pan so they didn't burn.

Despite how small Trixie's apartment was, it was an honest-to-goodness blessing that it came with French windows in her lounge that opened onto a balcony just big enough to fit a tiny round table and two plastic chairs. Whilst she still lived on her own, Trixie spent most of her evenings sitting out there reading a book or watching something on Netflix on her laptop, since she didn't have a TV (which had mortified Katya the very first time she visited, to which Trixie informed her that “it's way cheaper to pay for Netflix than a TV license and all of the channels,” which she was not wrong about). She was lucky enough that the view from the balcony was of the park at the other end of the street, rather than a brick wall like it was on the opposite face of the building. If she was home from work to catch the sunset just at the right time in the winter, she would sit out there with a blanket around her shoulders and watch the cold sun stream through the naked branches of the trees like tendrils of white gold. If Trixie didn't have the balcony in her apartment then Katya probably never could have moved in, as it was the only place she could smoke without it coming back into the rooms on a back-draught.

“Tortillas sound good,” Katya said, peering across the counter to hover her head near Trixie's to see the assortment of colours in the pan. It smelt divine, and she was absolutely starving. “Want me to wipe down the table?”

“Oh yeah, please, I forgot about that actually.” Trixie opened the cupboard beside the oven that her legs had been partially blocking to let Katya grab the cleaning supplies from it. “Set up a couple of plates too, please!” she called out to Katya as she passed through the lounge towards the double doors. Katya threw a silent thumbs-up into the air in response.

After Trixie had called Katya not long after their last trip up to the hills, Katya hadn't even hesitated to send her as much money as Trixie would let her on her mobile banking app – Katya knew she had enough to make up the rest of Trixie's outgoings but Trixie would never admit it, not until that last night when she finally realised that she couldn't do this alone. She had her bills sorted that same evening, and Katya had her things packed by the end of the week between shifts at the gardening centre she works at. Now, a week and a day after Trixie thought her world was falling apart around her, on her first self-claimed day off in months, she could officially say that she lived with her favourite person in the world. When piling the vegetables onto a serving plate and stacking tortillas onto a smaller plate for each of them, she put one extra tortilla onto Katya's pile as a silent, useless 'thank you'.

***

“We need a god damn TV in here.”

Trixie looked away from a bird she was tracing against the sky as she leaned against the balcony to look at Katya, who was sat on the floor leaning against one of the brick walls and blowing cigarette smoke between the metal railings next to her. “You've lived here for approximately 3 hours and you're already bored?”

Katya pulled her glasses down from where they were resting on top of her head so she could see Trixie's face properly and grinned. “Of course I am, you know how hyperactive I can get, my attention span is fuckin' non existent. But that wasn't my point. I just kinda need one for that,” she said, pointing with her free hand to a box wrapped in wires on the ground by the sofa that Trixie hadn't noticed until now; Katya's stuff was literally everywhere until they could find places to store it all. They probably had a trip to Ikea in their near future.

“Is that a fucking Playstation?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when did you have one of those?”

“My Mom got it for my brother for Christmas last year but he never plays it since all he does is, like, smoke weed with his friends and climb trees. Remember last November when he got both arms in a cast 'cause he fell out of one?”

“I mean, yeah, it was hilarious.” Trixie sat on the cold, stone floor of the balcony opposite Katya, switching between looking at her and peering through the railings to follow the flight of that same bird. It was currently perched on the top of a garbage can in the park.

“Well he couldn't play it when he first got it because of them, and then once he got the casts off he kinda forgot about it. So he let me have it.” She took another drag of her cigarette before stumping it out in the ashtray she had brought out with her. “He doesn't even like video games, I have no idea why Mom thought that was a good investment.”

“Does it have Mario Kart?”

“What? No, that's a Nintendo thing.”

“So?”

Katya sighed, which turned into a laugh. “Trix, Mario Kart is a Nintendo thing. Playstation isn't, they're different, you play it on a different console.”

Trixie pouted, and Katya rolled her eyes. “How about we save up for a TV, and I can show you my Playstation? It's got games that are just as good at Mario Kart, I promise.”

“Fine.” Trixie stood up and grabbed her own plate from the table to go and rinse, leaving Katya's behind.

Katya rolled her eyes again, yet sprouted a little endearing smile. “Okay, fine, we can save up for a Nintendo Switch too. But you're buying Mario Kart!”

Trixie immediately summoned the biggest, toothiest grin that she usually only saved for special occasions and grabbed Katya's empty dinner plate, too, as another silent thank-you. Katya smiled and muttered a quick “thanks, Trix,” as she laughed at her, stood up, and walked back into the lounge to sit down on the couch. She heard the plates tinker as they were placed in the sink followed by Trixie's “I don't know what you're thanking me for, you're doing the dishes.”

***

Trixie's apartment was hardly built for two; there was a single, patchwork orange couch with only two cushions that came with the place, which Trixie tended to take up all the space on by herself anyway once she sat on it with her legs out straight. The kitchen was big enough for one person to move around comfortably, but two people would have to do some sort of samba to navigate the space if they wanted to stay in the room (it was connected to the entryway through a large arch rather than a closing door. Great for saving space, less wonderful if Trixie wanted to brew her old - and _deafeningly_ loud - coffee pot without it being heard from whatever other room she waited in). And, of course, there was only one bedroom. Perhaps if they weren't so close, Trixie and Katya would have had more of an issue with that, in another lifetime, but they had each spent enough nights in each other’s arms for whatever reason – anxiety, nightmares, drunken loneliness after a late party – to be able to sleep in the same bed without it being weird.

_But,_ Trixie thought to herself - sitting on that same faded couch with her legs splayed out across the other cushion as she listened to Katya humming to herself in the kitchen as she did the dishes - those had only ever been one-offs, special circumstances, never really for more than a few nights at a time. This felt more permanent, more real, as they both legally lived in the same space, sharing the same 934 square feet with nowhere to hide from each other besides the outside world, which wasn't exactly a safe haven in itself . They would, spend every evening together, every morning, and sometimes even lunchtimes and weekends. There was no escaping Katya anymore. Trixie didn't know if that made her want to scream and run away, or pluck up the courage to march right into the kitchen at this very second and scoop Katya up in her arms, taking her to their only bedroom, their only bed, and welcome her home how she knew she _really_ wanted to.

_'Start as you mean to go on'_ , they say.

Only Trixie's not sure where she intends to go from here.

Apparently, though, it's to the kitchen regardless, once she hears Katya yelp, followed by a splash of water hitting a hard surface and a clash of metal hitting the bottom of the sink.

“Kat, you okay? What was that?” Trixie called, swinging her legs onto the rug beneath the carpet and heading to the kitchen.

“Nothing, I'm fine,” Katya said, clearly _not_ fine, with a trail of blood falling from the palm of her hand down to her forearm that signposted that it wasn't, in fact, nothing. The blood was mixing with the suds and water of the sink bowl still covering her arms, making it watered down and feather into the fine lines of her skin, pooling at the crease of her elbow where her arm was bent upward to try and stop the blood from flowing towards it.

“Yeah, clearly,” Trixie replied, grabbing the roll of paper towels that she kept beside the sink and pulling a huge wad off to wipe up Katya's arm and bunch into her cut hand, holding it in place with her own tight grip. “What did you do?”

Katya grimaced as the towel made contact with her exposed skin, but let Trixie do it anyway. “I was fishing around at the bottom of the sink to make sure I hadn't missed any dishes and there was a really sharp knife in there but I didn't know what it was at first, so I just grabbed it with my whole hand. Turns out it was the pointy end.”

Trixie simply huffed an endearing laugh out of her nose and shook her head, looking up at Katya's face to see if she was hurting. They made eye contact for a brief moment, Trixie offering her a reassuring smile upon seeing that she wasn't in too much pain, but her brows were furrowed; she could tell she felt like a bit of an idiot. “I give you one job and you can't even do it without drawing blood, honestly. What am I gonna do with you, Kat?”

Trixie reached into a high cupboard, instructing Katya to hold on to the wad of material that had now turned almost completely red, as she pulled out a small box labelled 'medical supplies'. She grabbed a loose band aid and reached out to Katya's hand to put it on, but it wasn't big enough; the cut was narrow but much deeper than it seemed like it should have been, and still wouldn't stop bleeding a worrying amount. “Shit,” she mumbled under her breath, quickly replacing the saturated towel with a fresh wad and guiding Katya to sit on the counter top, right where the overhead light shone. “Katya I think you're actually gonna need a few stitches in this, it's pretty fucking bad.”

Katya's eyes boggled, suddenly painfully reminded of her fear of needles, the fact that it was in her right hand so she wouldn't be able to drive herself to the hospital since she couldn't change gears so would they have to call an ambulance just because she got a stupid little cut on her hand that won't stop bleeding and it stings and oh _god_ -

“Hey, it's okay, don't panic. I can do it, I have a little sterile kit in my box from when we took that first aid class in high school, remember?” Katya did remember, then, and sighed, nodded _'okay'._ “I know you hate needles but I'll be quick, yeah? You trust me?”

“Of course I trust you Trix, god. Just make it stop bleeding? 'Cause I'm actually starting to feel a little dizzy now.”

Trixie washed her hands and wiped Katya's cut clean with the sterile wipes in her little kit, stitched up Katya's wound one, two, three times as the latter gripped onto Trixie's upper arm with her free hand, clenching her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, then it was done. Trixie wrapped it up in a gauze bandage for good measure, then hesitated before committing to planting a delicate kiss in the centre of Katya's palm. “All done.”

“Thank you,” Katya sighed, noticeably calmer now.

As Trixie gathered the handfuls of bloody cloths and tossed them into the trash, she glanced over her shoulder at Katya who was still perched on the side; “Of course you of all people would turn a basic chore into something requiring actual medical attention, you're such a mess.”

“Hey, I'm learning! This level of independence is still foreign to me,” Katya joked back. “You know what this means, though.”

“What?”

“Well I can't get my stitches wet or anything. Chores are on you, my beautiful housewife.”

Trixie groaned an immense _“fuck you”_ and rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but grin at Katya's ridiculousness, and blush at the stupid, passing nickname.

***

Later that night, after Trixie had reluctantly already gone to bed early because of her early morning shift, Katya sat alone back out on the balcony to watch the remainder of the late spring sunset. With her legs dangling between the wide railings, the blanked she had shared with Trixie up in the hills not long ago lay across her lap as she nursed a cigarette between two fingers of her injured hand, and a coffee in the other – decaf, however; she was a chaotic soul but a cup of fully caffeinated coffee at nearly 10pm was not a stunt she was prepared to pull after such a long day. A soft breeze brushed past her and into the wide open doors to the apartment, through which she could hear Trixie snoring in her – their – nearby bedroom (Katya really had to invest in some earplugs now that she thinks of it). She shivered, pulling the blanket further up around her shoulders with any free fingers she could find, before leaning to stub her cigarette out in the ashtray that she had granted a new home of its own in the corner.

Having only ever moved house once in her life as a small child, getting used to all of her belongings living somewhere completely different was proving to be something of a difficult new skill for Katya to acquire; she had been tripping over her belongings that were strewn across the apartment floor all day, stumping her toes on corners of cardboard boxes, and had once already looked around the whole apartment twice for a box of cigarettes she thought were lost in the moving process that turned out to have been in the pocket of her baggy harem pants the whole time.

Still, the newness of it all, despite what she was expecting her anxiety to tell her otherwise, was actually quite a liberating experience. Katya had felt guilty for having previously itched to move away from her parents, especially as an only child, but going on 20 and not wanting to go to college for anything in particular just yet made it a bit pointless and seem far-off. The first time Trixie had rejected her offer for them to move in together, she had cried as soon as she got home. The last time Trixie had called her so she could practically beg her to move in as soon as possible, Katya had cried as soon as she hung up. Here's something Katya wants: to be wanted by Trixie. Here's something that Katya fears: to be rejected by Trixie. It turns out that experiencing both of those things were enough to tip her over the edge into a blubbering mess.

So here, sat on her new balcony in her new home with her new roommate, Katya put down her coffee cup and started to cry. Because Katya is realising two things: one is that Trixie needs her, because otherwise she wouldn't have asked her to move in with her. This makes her feel wanted.

The other is that this first realisation has convinced her that Trixie only asked her to move in because she had no other choice. This makes her feel like a second choice, and she starts to notice that she can't tell if she's stuck in a scenario that she wants, or one that she fears, and the uncertainty of it kills her.

Trixie's apartment was hardly built for two. Katya lets this fact sink right down to her bones as she stands up and walks into the living room, leaving her blanket and half-empty coffee cup behind her as she locks the doors to the balcony.

She fell asleep on the sofa that night; curled up into a ball, feeling the throbbing of her pulse beneath her stitched up hand, yet the ache of the ghost of Trixie's lips on the mark somehow hurt a little worse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr! @artificialpeachh


	3. she's like a cat in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, it's okay. You don't have to feel guilty.” Katya took a drag from her cigarette, holding in the smoke whilst the spoke - “but I understand,” - then turned the other way to blow it away from Trixie.
> 
> Trixie bloomed a tiny smile to herself. She then stuck her butt out so she could lean right down and rest her head on her arms to look at Katya, and keep the setting sun out of her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so,,apologies for the literal 4 month gaps between every chapter. college is overwhelming and i'm lazy but i do love to write, and i love to write this. i hope its at least somewhat worth the wait :'))

“Are you sure your eyes are closed?”

Trixie half-sighed and half-laughed. “If you're waving your hands in front of my eyes I'm gonna kick you. No I can't see, you loser.”

“Okay, good.” Katya waved her hand in front of Trixie's face anyway for good measure, but mainly to annoy her on the off-chance that she actually was cheating. “Now follow me.”

Trixie didn't need to hold onto Katya to know her way around her tiny, familiar apartment. Katya knew this. They both reached out their hands anyway, and Trixie held on extra tight just to allow Katya her dramatics.

“If you've covered all of my shit in cling film or post-it notes again like you used to when I first moved in, I swear to God, Katya -”

“First of all, that was hilarious, I don't know what you're complaining about. And no, I haven't, this is way cooler _and_ more environmentally friendly. I think.”

It took all of 5 seconds for them to reach the centre of the lounge area from the front door. “Can I open my eyes yet?”

It had been one of the few days in the week when Trixie was working but Katya was not, and so she'd decided to make good use of her time (and money) to finally buy a TV for them both. Trixie saw that she had already plugged the PS4 into it so she could watch Netflix, and Katya could play her video games.

Trixie felt so guilty.

“Katya...oh my God.”

“Do you like it?”

It can't have been more than a couple of years old, and definitely not less than a few hundred dollars. “It's literally the coolest thing that has entered this place since I moved in. But you shouldn't have paid for it on your own, I thought we were gonna save up together?”

“Hey, it's alright. I already had some extra in my savings so I thought I'd treat us both. It's been weird living without one for, what, 3 weeks? I don't know how you've survived like this, honestly.”

Trixie knelt down to look at it up close. There was hardly a scratch on it. She could clearly see her own reflection in the black screen, and Katya's standing behind her. “Thank you, Kat.”

“You don't have to thank me. You can just make dinner for the rest of forever as payback.” Katya strode into the kitchen and opened the fridge to rummage.

Trixie heard a can of coke crack open from the other room before shouting back, “bitch, you can't even cook anyway!”

Katya laughed mid-swallow whilst walking back into the lounge and snorted cola out of her nose. Trixie just smiled and shook her head, still mulling over cooking Katya's meals for the _“rest of forever”._ She didn't mind the concept one bit.

It only took 2 minutes of Katya coughing bubbles out of her nose - and a further ten minutes of Trixie moping about having to cook dinner after work - for them to decide on ordering pizza. As Trixie hung up the phone to the delivery place, Katya was making her way out onto the balcony to smoke. The sun was already beginning to set, and the sky was airbrushed in a gradient from red to darkening blue. Trixie thought fast, phone still in her hand, and snapped a silent photo of Katya leaning against the railing with her back to her, head in profile and a cigarette between her lips.

“You just got over a coughing fit, grandma, you trying to induce another already?” Trixie nudged Katya's arm with her elbow as a cue to make room on the railing, and leaned beside her.

“Shut up bitch, that TV was so damn stressful to set up.” Both of their eyes were fixated on the view, but Trixie could tell without even looking at Katya's face that there was no malice in her words. “I almost thought I wouldn't have it ready for you coming home. And the delivery guy tried to close the door at the same time as me so I touched his hand on the doorknob and it was weird so I accidentally shut the door in his face.”

Trixie always found Katya's ramblings amusing, laughing through her nose with an exasperated “oh my fucking god,” her head bowing in the space between her body and the railing for a moment. “Thanks for caring so much about the TV though. I know I said I didn't really care for one but it means a lot. It makes it feel more homely in here, y'know?”

“Hey, it's okay. You don't have to feel guilty, it's both of ours. I'll be using it too.” Katya took a drag from her cigarette, holding in the smoke whilst the spoke - “but I understand,” - then turned the other way to blow it away from Trixie.

Trixie bloomed a tiny smile to herself. She then stuck her butt out so she could lean right down and rest her head on her arms to look at Katya, and keep the setting sun out of her eyes.

“Anyway,” Katya repeated her cycle of smoking and speaking, “How was work today? Get any creeps winking at you while you served them again?”

Trixie sighed and let her eyes half-close, not wanting to take them off of the girl beside her. “I was on bar making drinks all day, thank God. It's the only part of the job that I actually enjoy. The cash register is easiest, but the level of human interaction? Far too much.” Katya laughed aloud at that. “It was actually kinda funny today. Brian – you remember him, tall, bald guy who talks too much? - he was supervising today and brought us a bunch of milk from out back to restock the fridges. But once they were full -” Trixie had to take a pause because she began to laugh, every other word heaving all of her breath from her lungs. “He just kept bringing them. Katya, there was just, fucking, milk _everywhere_. On top of the coffee machines, in the sink. I had to stop working for about 5 minutes 'cause I was laughing so much and there was nowhere to put anything. It was like a milk carton museum. You probably would've loved it, actually.”

Katya stopped inhaling her cigarette, Trixie's story having captured one hundred percent of her attention, and by the time she had finished speaking it was burnt down to the filter. She didn't even realise until Trixie pointed it out to her, as she tried to take a drag with her eyes having not left Trixie all the while she spoke. Katya laughed at her story, and Trixie laughed even more at Katya... being Katya. Within a moment they were both in hysterics, clutching at their own stomachs and each other's arms atop the railings.

“Oh fuck,” Katya made her way over to the little table and chairs, wiping at her eyes. “I gotta sit down. That was the most physical exertion I've done all day.”

Trixie followed her, sitting in the chair opposite. “You literally set up a whole TV just now.”

“You think I have the finesse for that? I was only kidding when I said I set it up on my own, you know I'm technologically inept. The delivery guy was with a woman from the company, and she came in and set it up for me. She was butch as _fuck_.”

“How butch is 'as fuck'?”

“On a scale from me in eighth grade when I got a pixie cut to...I dunno, Lena Waithe post-head shave? Like a 9.”

“ _Damn,_ girl. I love butches, you know I'm jealous right now.”

“Wait really? I thought your type would be more..like you?”

Trixie leaned back in her seat with her arms out straight, palms flat on the table. “You tryna say you think my head is up my own ass?”

Katya shrieked, curling in on herself for a second, before yelling, “More like up your own pussy!”

Trixie surged forward to slap her on the arm with a smirk. “I mean, I do have my exceptions.”

“So you totally would be down to fuck a clone of yourself, is that what you're saying?”

“Katya!” Trixie slapped her again, on both arms at once, which just made Katya cackle even more. “You know what I meant, bitch, I don't only love butch women. God, you're answering the door once the food gets here for that. I won't make you sleep on the couch but you're on thin fucking ice.”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry.” Katya's laughter died down to a chortle, and Trixie reached out again to rub where she had slapped Katya's arms. It was only light and playful, but she was so pale that it was reddening slightly. “Who are your exceptions then, huh?”

“What?”

“What other ladies made it into your wank bank that aren't total daddies?”

“Gross.” Trixie looked down at Katya's arm where she was still mindlessly feathering her hand over the redness there, and paused for a moment.

“Well?”

She looked back up to meet Katya's eyes. “Your mom.”

This time it was Trixie who got a slap, screeching with laughter.

By the time their pizza had arrived, the sun had set too far beyond the buildings and trees to be visible, save for the dying sunset that was slowly being invaded by the black and blue of the night. Whilst Katya paid the delivery guy and precariously arranged the pizza boxes on the too-small balcony table, Trixie had taken the liberty to swap her work clothes for an old pink tee that had shrunk in the wash too much to be acceptable day wear, and a loose chequered pair of shorts a few shades darker than her top.

It only took one look from Trixie for Katya to reconsider the layout of their meal; she had placed the boxes side-by-side, meaning that two whole corners of each was overhanging the table. One misplaced flail from Katya would send the whole thing toppling, and Trixie was far from prepared to sacrifice her first full meal of the day. After much squirming and kicking, each girl grasping their pizza box as though it was an open suitcase of money, they ended up with Trixie eating from the table side-on and Katya eating from her lap. The compromise, of course, was that Katya got to rest her feet in Trixie's lap, whilst Trixie's legs were resting out straight atop the balcony railing.

They ate in silence, and the air was filled with the somewhat distant sounds of the city – honking cars and noisy phone conversations passing by below - as well as the faint, tinny hum of music coming from Katya's phone. As Lana Del Ray's voice faded from _Lust for Life_ into _Change,_ Katya turned to Trixie, and gestured with her elbow – since her hands were occupied with a pizza slice - towards their legs. “You know,” she began, before pausing to swallow her current mouthful, “This is sorta like a game of jenga, right?. Like Leg Jenga. _Lenga._ ”

“First of all,” Trixie began, adamant on proving Katya wrong. “I dunno what Jenga your family raised you on that involved, what, three tiers? But you've been deprived and it shows.” Katya had to stop herself mid-bite to laugh, dangerously close to spitting cheese everywhere. “And second of all, if it was leg jenga it would be 'lega', not _lenga,_ there's no 'n' in leg you trash bag. Or did your parents also not teach you to spell?”

Trixie basked in the absolute wail of laughter that she solicited from Katya, but then absolutely lost it herself when Katya immediately bounced back with “whaddup, I'm Katya, I'm nineteen, and I never fuckin' learned how to read.”

**

It was only 10pm. Trixie knew she wouldn't last through a whole 45 minute episode of Stranger Things, and her desperation to finish season one by the end of the week was proving to be a challenge. Not nearly as much, however, as staying awake was in that moment. The end credits came and went, and Katya could tell Trixie had no idea the TV had stopped emitting sounds, since she was already half dozed-off, head on the armrest and a cushion cradled under her chin. Katya silently stood, locked the balcony doors, and drew the curtains with an attempt to keep the squeaking of the metal rings on the overhead pole to a minimum. By the end of her preparation for bedtime, the pizza leftovers were in the fridge, the boxes stacked beside the sink to be taken to the big bins in the complex's basement the following morning. Convincing Trixie that the relocation from couch to bed was worth it was an effort, and the compromise arose that if Trixie got any of her makeup – which she refused to expend any more energy to wipe off - onto the pillowcases, she would have to wash them the next day. Katya was grateful that she did agree to brush her teeth, however, since she was all too aware of Trixie's habit of sleeping with her mouth wide open, breath attacking whatever poor thing happened to be in its path (which, far too often already, was Katya herself).

Once Katya finished her very brief night time routine (face wipe, toothbrush, pee; in no particular order) she walked in on Trixie in bed on her phone. Before climbing into bed, she took her sweatpants off, leaving only her panties and a baggy tee for her to sleep in comfortably. Whilst still standing, she raised one leg and wiggled her toes, poking Trixie's side beneath the thin duvet; a silent signal for her to scooch over. “I can't believe I fall for this literally once a week at least.”

Trixie shuffled to let Katya under the covers. “Fall for what?”

“You looking like you're fully asleep in the living room which makes me feel bad, so I do all the clean-ups and shit. No fair.” Katya faced Trixie on her side, and unlocked her phone to scroll on Twitter.

“Okay fair, but I actually was super tired. Watching TV always makes me fall asleep. Don't you get that? Where once you get into bed you're less tired than you thought? I always have to go on my phone before I sleep anyway, the light makes my eyes sleepy for real.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. It's like a bedtime story, except instead of fairytales its racists on Twitter.”

“You follow Trump? Bold.”

Katya laughed – it's all she ever seemed to do around Trixie – but found that she was much more tired than she realised, making it come out as a huff of breath from her nose rather than one of her signature full-body wheezes.

They stayed that way for longer than they both expected – each being determined not to be the first to lose to the throes of exhaustion – and opted for sending each other posts on whatever platform they had hopped to in lieu of simply turning their phones around. The silence was prominent, only interrupted by the occasional huff of laughter or comment, but it was not awkward. It was homely, to just share each other's presence and not feel the need to do anything other than exist. Before they had met, Katya refused to let friends from school stay at her house, or even visit if it wasn't necessary. As someone with such performative emotional expression, once it came down to being outwardly calm and neutral in an intimate environment, she just couldn't cope. The thought of not filling the gaps with jokes and boisterous laughter in order to feel accepted was crushing. Yet with Trixie, this fear was quickly dampened down into nothing. Their meeting was the ultimate culmination of depression versus anxiety, and they complemented and grounded each other so often that it became second nature.

Katya chanced a glimpse away from her phone to look at Trixie, who was smiling softly at her screen. She prompted Trixie on it, who actually turned her phone around for Katya this time to show her an entire Tumblr blog dedicated to pictures of cows. “They're so fluffy!”

“I thought I was the hippie dippy bitch around here.” Katya smirked, focussing more of her attention on Trixie than the picture, as sweet as it was.

“Prove it, girl! Become a vegan and live in the mountains and shit.”

“Okay, wow, this is erasing my city girl identity. Shame on you.”

“Well, you could at least start with getting a reusable cup for all the coffee you pump into your withered body.”

“What, you expect me to walk into your Starbucks with a trough? 'Cause I'll go steal one from a farm, bitch, just try me.”

“Oh my God, imagine. Coffee Trough. Troffee!”

Katya giggled. Both of their phones had gone to sleep from inactivity, and it was pitch dark, save for the light of the moon coming in through the open blinds.

“The next time I walk in I'm gonna hand chisel a stone mug for you to fill up.”

Trixie chuckled, and it soon turned into a yawn. She took it as a cue to turn in for the night, reaching over to her bedside table to plug in her phone. “I yield. You win tonight, I'm on the brink of death at this point. Night, Kat.”

“G'night Trix.”

Katya plugged in her phone as well, but knew she wouldn't fall asleep as quickly as Trixie. She waited until she heard her breathing deepen, then turn into a gentle snore, before she quietly opened the little drawer in her side table and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Trying not to disturb Trixie, she slithered out from beneath the thin duvet, closing the blinds on her way by, and headed towards the balcony in the living room. She peeled back the curtains enough to get in front of the door to open it – the key was still in the lock, as always – but left them drawn once she was outside to prevent the soft noise from drifting in and waking Trixie up. Her legs were bare, but the air was on the brink between warm and cool that was comfortable even in a state of undress. She lit up her last cigarette of the day, and leaned forward over the balcony to see the street below.

They were far enough from downtown Los Angeles for it to be an affordable place for them to live, but the hustle and bustle diffused to the outskirts enough that these streets were still alive at night. The Hollywood hills were away in the distance, obscured vaguely by neighbouring skyscrapers, and the letters were practically indiscriminate at night but Katya knew they were there. In the foreground of the view, the local park was lit by the odd streetlamp, but not a soul was in sight. Their apartment was on the fifth floor of the complex, but Katya still caught a word or two of conversations from below if she strained her ears enough; there was a man that appeared to be talking on the phone to a woman named Rachel about their baby. Two latino men were chatting away in Spanish, and a group of six older teenagers were singing, with two of the boys in the cluster vogueing side-by-side. They were definitely Katya's favourite passers-by of the night, and must have been going to a gay club. She made a mental note to tell Trixie about them in the morning.

There it is again. She could only go so many trains of thought before she inevitably came back around to thinking about Trixie. At this point, she couldn't bring herself to be mad about it. In Junior year of high school, she would berate herself for thinking about her in any capacity beyond her own mental boundaries of friendship. She could remember one science lesson, where Trixie spilled hydrochloric acid in a cut on her hand during a lab and Katya genuinely panicked, insisting on helping Trixie rinse it out at the sink despite her other completely functional hand that could turn on the taps, and even walking her to the school nurse because she wanted to make sure she was okay. She knew it was a weak concentration of acid, but her caring overwhelmed her common sense. Sitting in the chair of the nurse's office, she realised that she had left her bunsen burner on back in the classroom, unattended. She had prioritised Trixie over literally everyone else in their class, and probably the whole school, including herself. That was when she knew that Trixie was much more than just a friend to her, that she had a damned crush. But it should have been a schoolgirl's infatuation, here and gone by the end of the year, and certainly by graduation when they'd inevitably part ways. But senior year came and went, as did graduation, and here was Katya, knocking on twenty, thinking about Trixie as though they were an old married couple, or as if she was sixteen again. She felt silly, but at the same time that she'd want nothing more than for the former to be true.

All the while she was lost in her thoughts, she mindlessly dragged away at her cigarette until it was down to the filter, the sounds of the city completely glossing over her now. She went to stub it out on her little ashtray on the table, only to remember that it was on the floor in the corner, their pizza boxes from dinner having evicted it from its usual home.

She almost couldn't bear going back to bed, back to Trixie. Then again, she'd been dreaming to be able to say that she shared a bed with her for the last two years, so could hardly complain now. Her anxiety had eased since she first moved in, and she no longer felt like an intruder, as close as she was to Trixie. She locked the balcony doors behind her, quiet as a mouse.

Trixie hadn't moved since Katya left the bed, and Katya was both grateful and amazed that her side still remained vacant. Katya slowly peeled her corner of the blanket away before sliding underneath and getting comfortable, but she froze when she felt Trixie shift in her place. She let out a tiny grunt in her sleep, and threw her leg across Katya's before settling again. Katya relaxed again once she knew that Trixie hadn't actually woken up, but still felt chained to the spot by Trixie's leg – she couldn't move her now, otherwise she'd wake up for real. She didn't much like sleeping on her back, but she'd be lying if she didn't absolutely revel in being Trixie's personal pillow. She smiled to herself in resignation, and allowed the steady rhythm of Trixie's breathing to slowly lull her to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @artificialpeachh !!


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